Gnosis
by dragonflybeach
Summary: You shouldn't let your partner out of your sight on a demon hunt. Not even for a moment. No matter how much he annoys you. written for the ohsam! hurt/comfort challenge on LJ with the prompt: Young! or teen!Sam possession. Because there's no way it didn't happen till BUABS.


A/N - warnings: demonic possession, attempted rape, m/m sexual assault, strangulation, references to prostitution that may or may not have happened, guns, violence, angst, language, not pretty not even a little bit.

* * *

"I fucking hate demons." Dean announced.

"Eleven," Sam replied.

"What?" Dean grumbled.

"That's the eleventh time you've said that since we've been sitting here." Sam shrugged.

"Well then you should know how much I hate 'em," Dean snorted. "Are Dad and Bobby ever gonna get done?"

"Eventually. He's still Uncle Bobby, you know." Sam made a bitchface. "Just because you think you're grown now ... "

"Dude, I am legal in all fifty states, and that gives me the right to vote, join the military, and call adults by their first name." Dean snarked.

Sam moved to stretch out his legs in the front seat of the Impala and managed to bang his knee on the dash. He had grown four inches in the past six months, becoming lanky and clumsy and not quite knowing what to do with his body most of the time.

"Could you manage to not destroy my car?" Dean snapped.

"Whatever, jerk. I'm gonna get out for a minute." Sam flipped him off and opened the door.

"Don't go wandering off. Dad said ... "

"I know what Dad said, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm just getting out to stretch. I'll be right here if anything happens."

"Just stay where I can see you." Dean ordered. "We don't ... "

"I'm sixteen, Dean!" Sam hissed. "I can take care of myself!"

"Whatever, bitch," Dean huffed.

Sam slammed the car door with a little more force than necessary and reached high, stretching out his back and neck. He walked around in small circles next to the car.

The unmistakable crack of a gunshot and shouting came from the direction of the abandoned house Dad and Uncle Bobby were investigating.

Sam pulled his gun out of his jacket and took off through the woods before Dean could get the car door open.

"Sam!" Dean called helplessly after him as he half fell out of the car in his rush, then ran in the same direction.

The abandoned house was closer than he thought, and Dean arrived to find Dad and Bobby standing outside.

"Where's Sam?" Dad asked.

Dean looked around in confusion. "He ran off ahead of me. You mean he's not here?"

"Yes, I am," Sam stumbled out of the woods behind them, arm curled around his chest.

"What the fu ... " Dean began, but Bobby interrupted.

"What happened to you?"

"Something ran into me, knocked me down and knocked the wind out of me." Sam answered.

"Yeah, the fucking demon we're trying to hunt, maybe?" Dad shouted. "I told the two of you to stay put!"

"There was no guarantee it was going to run that direction." Bobby pointed out.

"How did something knock you down in front of me and I didn't know it?" Dean asked.

"Dude, you ran right past me!" Sam snapped. "I couldn't get enough air to yell, so I tried to grab your ankle but you moved too fast."

"You ran right past your brother laying on the ground and _didn't notice_?" John roared.

Dean looked from Sam to Dad and back. "You sure something ran into you? You sure you didn't just run into a tree branch and clothesline yourself or something?"

"Bite me," Sam ground out.

"You ok, Sam?" Bobby asked, gesturing at the way Sam still had his arm wrapped around himself. "You think any ribs are broken?"

"No sir," the boy shook his head. "I've had broken ribs before. I just got my bell rung."

"I can't believe you let the demon get away!" John threw up his hands. "I told you two to stay out by the road!"

"We thought you were in trouble and we were coming to help!" Sam argued.

"John, it still might not have even gone near the car!" Bobby repeated. "Come on, we're all cold and tired. Let's get something to eat and warmed up and regroup."

The four of them trudged out to the road, John grumbling under his breath the whole way. The boys moved to get in the car, while Dad and Bobby headed toward the truck.

"Diner up on Highway 17," Bobby called.

"Ok," Dean nodded.

The four hunters drank three pots of coffee between them. Dean and Bobby ate while John and Sam mostly pushed their food around on the plate and tore pieces off the buns.

Upon returning to the motel, Bobby herded John to their room when he looked as if he might say something else to his sons. As they walked into their own room, Dean noticed that Sam was still holding himself oddly.

"You still hurting?" Dean asked, his brow wrinkling in concern. "You didn't eat much."

"Not really hurting," Sam answered. "Just kinda stiff."

"Hit the shower," Dean pointed at the bathroom. "The warm water will help loosen you up."

"You go ahead," Sam sank down in a chair. "I'll take a shower in a few minutes."

"What's wrong with you?" Dean looked his brother from head to toe. "Did you hit your head or something too?"

"No, really," Sam shook his head. "You get the first shower. I want to just sit down for a couple minutes first."

"You sure you're ok?" Dean asked, studying him closely.

"I'll be fine." Sam smiled. "Leave me some hot water."

Dean emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later dressed for bed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He glanced over to see Sam in a chair, his feet propped on the table, stripped down to a t-shirt and boxers.

"Shower's free," he called, as if Sam hadn't noticed.

This motel was one where the toilet and tub were behind the bathroom door, but the sink was in the main room. He grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste and leaned forward to turn the water on.

Sam's arms snaked around Dean's chest from behind, and his head pressed against the back of Dean's neck.

"The hunt shake you up that bad, Sammy?" he frowned, trying to raise his head, but the pressure against his neck kept him leaning forward.

Sam's arms tightened around him, and a very definite erection pressed against Dean's ass.

"Sammy," Dean tried to jump, startled, but two very strong arms held him in place. "The fuck?"

"Don't pretend, Dean," Sam's voice practically purred in his ear as his mouth worked over Dean's neck. "I know you've been a lot closer to a dick than this."

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about and what the fuck are you doing?" Dean's voice shot up an octave and at least thirty decibels as Sam's hips rolled against him again.

Sam's tongue traced the shell of Dean's ear. "I know you've sucked cock and taken it up the ass from strangers for money. To take care of me."

"Sam, this isn't funny!" Dean squeaked. "Let me go!"

"But I _love_ you Dean," Sam growled as he bit the tender skin of Dean's shoulder. "It's my turn."

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" Dean was nearly shouting by now. He thrashed against Sam, knocking his toiletries bag off the counter. "Let me go!"

"So you'll do this _for_ Sammy, but not _with_ Sammy?" Sam chuckled. "You're mine, Dean, and you're going to do what I say."

One of Sam's hands moved up to grab Dean's t-shirt just under the collar and ripped it off in one yank.

"Sam, no!" Dean shouted, fully panicked now.

Sam's arm around Dean's waist tightened for a second, and Dean found himself lifted and thrown face down onto the bed. He tried to get up, but strangely felt himself held in place even though he didn't feel the warmth of Sam's body against him until a few seconds later.

"Sam, stop!" he shrieked. "I'm your brother!"

"You're about to be more than that." Sam whispered. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't sit down for a week."

"SA ... " Dean's cry was cut off by Sam's hand closing over his throat.

"You're gonna scream in a few minutes." Sam promised. "You're gonna scream for more and beg for me to let you come."

He bit Dean's back several times before he finally released his grasp in his brother's neck, leaving Dean gasping for air.

"Sammy, no, don't do this!" Dean pleaded, even as Sam pressed Dean's upper back down with one hand, pinning his arms underneath him, and tugged Dean's sweats down with the other.

"You have the cutest ass I've ever seen," Sam praised. "All this time, you've been calling me bitch, but really, you want to be _my_ bitch."

His weight shifted, and Dean found himself being rolled. "Turn over. I wanna see your face when I'm inside you."

Dean flailed, trying to strike out at Sam the second his arm was free, but the younger brother caught it neatly, nearly crushing his wrist as he wrestled the arm above Dean's head and pinned it there, then pulled the other one up to join it.

"You might be older, but you're not the _big_ brother any more." Sam taunted.

He held both of Dean's wrists above his head with one big hand, clamping the other down over Dean's throat again, and used his knees to press Dean's legs apart.

Dean spit at Sam's face.

Sam backhanded him hard enough to draw blood, still holding Dean's wrists in place.

Sam brought his free hand to his mouth and sucked on his index finger. "Don't have any lube, so we'll have to make do with spit." He smirked at Dean. "It's gonna hurt."

"Sammy, please," Dean whimpered. "Don't let him do this to me."

* * *

Bobby had come out of the shower and John was about to go in when they heard a commotion in the next room.

Dean said something they couldn't make out, followed by a very clear "Let me go!"

"Aw, hell." Bobby rolled his eyes. "What did Dean do to him this time?"

"Sam, no!" followed, and then the sound of furniture cracking against the wall.

"The hell?" Bobby looked over to John, who had gone perfectly still and white as a sheet.

As soon as Dean shouted "Sam, stop, I'm your brother!" John grabbed his Beretta and headed toward the door.

"It's starting." he said.

Bobby didn't know if John meant to tell him something, or if he was talking to himself.

By the time Bobby crossed the threshold, John had a boot raised and kicked the door next to the knob as hard as he could.

"Sam! Dean!" he shouted.

The door didn't budge and Dean's screams continued from inside.

John threw his weight against the door, which barely rattled in the frame.

"Idjit, the deadbolt's locked." Bobby grumbled, pulling John aside and dropping to his knees with a lock pick in his hand.

"Hurry!" John urged.

"Trying!" Bobby snapped.

The door swung open a second later to reveal Sam holding Dean pinned to the bed, leaving no doubt as to what Sam was trying to do.

"Get out of my brother!" Dean shouted hoarsely.

"Mine!" Sam hissed in John's direction.

John raised his gun. Bobby slapped his arm as he fired, causing the shot to nick Sam's shoulder instead of penetrating his skull.

"Dad, no!" Dean shouted, at the same moment Bobby shoved John aside and threw holy water on Sam's back.

Sam hissed, his skin sizzled and his eyes turned black. He turned back to the figure beneath him and punched Dean in the mouth.

John startled, and took a step back. "Not yellow." he muttered.

"Come on in, John," the Sam demon grinned wickedly. "You want to know what your good little soldier has been doing while you were gone? He lets strangers fuck him for money. But he closes his eyes and pretends it's Sammy, Sammy's cock up his ass."

Dean struggled harder, trying to get free.

"You can't have him!" John yelled.

Bobby began chanting in Latin.

Sam's head fell back, and with a roar, black smoke poured from his mouth.

Dean grabbed his brother's body, pulling him down on the bed and levering himself up between John and Sam.

"Dean!" John shouted, across the room and beside the bed in a heartbeat.

"He's hurt!" Dean wailed, wide eyed. "He can't breathe!"

John shoved his gun into Dean's hands, and then pushed him aside to get to his younger son.

Sam lay on the bed where he had fallen, wide eyed, chest heaving and rattling as he tried to pull in air.

"Call rescue!" John ordered. "His ribs are broken." He looked over at Bobby, who was now on the opposite side of the bed. "Get rid of the fucking gun. We tell them that a couple guys shoved their way in here and tried to rob the boys. Dean, get dressed for God's sake!"

The ambulance was there in under a minute, once Bobby told them a teenage boy had been beaten and was having trouble breathing.

The medics quickly stabilized Sam, strapped him to a backboard, and prepared to load him into the ambulance.

"You riding with, sir?" one of them asked John.

John looked over for the first time, and saw Bobby with his arms around Dean, who was shuddering and trying not to cry.

"Yeah, I'll ride with him." John nodded. "You following?"

"Of course," Bobby answered, his frown conveying that it hadn't been necessary to ask.

An hour later, John stared at the floor in the waiting room, not even looking up when Dean collapsed into the chair beside him.

"Uncle Bobby made them check me over even though I said I was fine." he explained. "How's Sam?"

"He had several broken ribs on the right side, to the point where his chest wasn't expanding and contracting like he needed to be able to breathe properly. The doctors are going to set them and wrap his chest in compression wraps to keep them in place. They said it doesn't appear he has any actual damage to his lungs, but they want to keep him overnight for observation."

Dean nodded. "Good."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes before Dean spoke again.

"D-Dad?" he stammered. "What ... what the demon said ... "

"Demons lie." John cut him off.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I, uh, ... "

"Demons fucking _lie,_ Dean! That's all I need to know!" his father snapped. He sighed and dropped his face into his hands for a moment before raising his head to stare down the hall. "Jim Murphy will be here in an hour. We're going to get this demon. If it's the last thing I fucking _do,_ we're going to get this demon. You and Bobby take Sam back to his place, and I'll come after you when it's done."

"Yes sir," Dean nodded, biting his lip.

John stood and awkwardly patted Dean's shoulder. "It's all gonna be ok." He said as he walked away.

* * *

The doctors kept Sam sedated for most of the night and next morning with a machine blowing fresh air in his face all the time, saying it would be easier that way, that his body wouldn't have to struggle to hard to breathe.

He was released at lunch time the following day, with breathing exercises and instructions to cough every hour while he was awake no matter how much it hurt, and to sit up as much as possible so pneumonia would be less likely to set in.

They arrived in Sioux Falls that evening, with Uncle Bobby driving the Impala, Dean riding shotgun, and Sam in the back where he would have room to stretch out.

Dean spoke for the first time that day when they reached the house.

"I'll sleep on the couch. You know, so I don't jar Sam's ribs."

Bobby shook his head. "You ain't exactly ready to go climb mountains either, kid. You sleep in my bed and I'll sleep on the couch."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Bobby reminded him that it was his house, his rules.

Sam disappeared up the stairs into the room he and Dean had always shared, and didn't come out except to slip down the stairs for a pain pill and something to drink later that night.

Bobby went into to check on him that night, after Dean had gone to bed. He found Sam sitting on the bed, staring out the window.

Bobby leaned against the wall next to the window and folded his arms across his chest. "You gotta let it go, Sam."

"You should have let Dad shoot me." Sam murmured.

"You know better than that." Bobby huffed.

"I almost killed Dean," Sam answered. "I almost ... did even worse stuff ... "

_"You_ didn't do it," Bobby shook his head. "That demon inside you did."

"But I was in there," Sam insisted. "I could see and hear and _feel_ everything."

"Then why didn't you stop?" Bobby asked.

"I couldn't!" Sam cried. "I tried. I did everything ... "

"Exactly," Bobby nodded. "Not your fault. The first step to getting through this is to accept that you did the best you could."

"It's not that easy. Dean ... " He drew in a shuddering breath and bit his lip.

"Nobody said it was gonna be easy." Bobby agreed. "But Dean? He's here. He didn't leave you. And I think that says a lot."

Sam nodded, his lips pressed together tightly.

"And I think that's enough talking for one night." Bobby pushed away from the wall and ambled toward the door. "Get some rest, kid."

Sam hid in his room again the next day. Dean hovered somewhere near Bobby, sitting across the room while Bobby did research, sweeping the kitchen while Bobby cooked, rearranging the books in the shelf at the foot of the stairs whenever Bobby went up to check on Sam.

Dean didn't speak, couldn't make the words come out, but Bobby just nodded and let him do what he needed to.

At dusk that evening, John knocked on the door.

"Demon's been sent back to hell." he announced. "I got another case. Ghoul in Arkansas. Dean and I are pulling out. Can Sam stay here for a few days?"

"They _both_ need to stay here for a few days." Bobby answered. "Call Walt and Roy. Last I heard, they were in Alabama. They can meet you in Arkansas."

"Sam's hurt," John explained with exaggerated patience. "But Dean's fine. Just a few bruises. He can come with me."

"The hell he is!" Bobby thundered. "A demon wearing his _brother_ beat him and molested him and nearly strangled him, John! He was seconds away from being full on _raped!_ He might be mostly ok physically, but mentally he's not! And Sam is just as bad on the inside! You've never been possessed. You don't know what it's like. He's beating himself up over the fact that the demon got in him, and what the demon made him do to Dean. Leave 'em here while you go do this hunt. Let them heal. They need each other for that. Sam needs Dean to forgive him, and Dean needs to make sure Sam understands it wasn't his fault."

"I don't have time to stand here and argue with you, Bobby!" John shouted. "They're my sons. I'm taking Dean with me if I damn well please, and I'll take Sam too if I have to!"

"Dean is twenty years old." Bobby snapped back. "He can stay here if he chooses. And Sam needs to not be on the road for a few days. Get your head out of your ass, John! Leave 'em here, and when you finish this job, I'll send 'em to meet ya. They got the Impala."

"They can talk when we get back," John argued. "It's just a ghoul. Couple days at most."

"John, listen to me," Bobby implored. "Those boys have always been able to communicate without talking and move in synch without looking at each other. Right now they're slinking around here like a couple of ghosts, afraid to talk to _me_ and won't even _look_ at each other. Give them a little time to get through this. Are you really willing to risk ruining probably the greatest hunting team ever for a ghoul that any jackass who can hit a headshot could take out?"

"What part of they're my sons did you not understand?" John roared, trying to shove past Bobby.

Bobby's hand that had been on the door frame reached down and inside the house to come up with a shotgun. "What part of they're staying here did you not understand?" He cocked the gun. "Now get your ass off my porch and go hunt that ghoul before I fill you full of buckshot. The boys will be along in a week or so, when they're better."

John backed away two steps with his hands up. "Dean!" he yelled, head tilted back.

Dean stepped up behind Bobby, eyes wide and his jaw twitching.

"Let me take care of Sam," he pleaded, his voice quivering.

John huffed out a sigh, fixing his oldest son with a long, hard look. Finally he spoke. "Fine. One week. Then you two are meeting me on the road, wherever I am."

"Ye ... Yes sir," Dean nodded and disappeared back into the house.

"We're not through with this, Singer." John growled.

"We are for today." Bobby shrugged, and shut the door in John's face.

Dean turned in time to see Sam at the top of the stairs. Sam spun quickly and went back to his room. Dean made his way up the stairs, and opened the bedroom door without knocking.

In the dimness, he could just make out Sam laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, not looking at Dean.

Dean walked around the foot of the bed, toed off his shoes, and climbed on the mattress as carefully as he could, trying not to jostle Sam. He laid on his stomach and turned his face toward his brother.

"You know, if you've forgotten how this goes, this is the part where you come crawl in my bed after dark and tell me what's wrong so I can fix it." he said.

Sam snorted. "This isn't your mess to fix. You're not the one who got possessed and hurt me."

"That's the point," Dean told him softly. "You were possessed. You _didn't_ hurt me. The demon did."

"I ran off from you, when I shouldn't have," Sam sighed. "I let the demon catch me alone."

"You wanna play the blame game?" Dean asked. "I knew you had been off somewhere alone with a demon running loose, and didn't check you to make sure you weren't possessed. Hell, for that matter, _Dad_ knew it and didn't check you."

"I wouldn't blame you, you know, if you never want to see me again." Sam sniffed.

"You're not getting rid of me that easy." Dean replied.

They laid there for a few minutes listening to the clock tick.

"How did you know it wasn't me?" Sam asked.

"Dude, you were possessed." Dean frowned. "Full on black eyes, Linda Blair shit, the works."

"No," Sam shook his head slightly. "Before Dad and Uncle Bobby got there. When I was ... you said for me not to let it hurt you."

"Well, yeah," Dean bunched the pillow under his head. "I was really hoping you could do something about it."

"You knew it wasn't me." Sam repeated. "What made you realize it wasn't me?"

"You're too romantic." Dean answered. "You would have at least tried to kiss me and hold my hand and shit before you tried to get in my pants."

Sam turned his head to look at his older brother, and started giggling. Dean started laughing as well.

"Don't make me laugh, jerk," Sam lazily slapped at Dean's chest. "Hurts my ribs."

"That's what you get, bitch." Dean grinned. "Speaking of which, when's the last time you did your breathing exercises?"

"A couple hours ago," Sam rolled his eyes.

"Well, get the paper. You're about to do them again." Dean announced.

"Deeeeeeeeeeeean," Sam whined.

"Shut up," Dean told him. "You're gonna have a lot of grovelling and making up to do and I'll be damned if I let you die before it's done."

* * *

In the bathroom two doors over, Bobby heard the boys laugh and nodded.


End file.
